


In Your Heart Shall Burn

by Yevie



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Dragon Age: Origins AU (sort of), Gen, Mage Sylvain, Pre-Relationship, mercenary felix
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-11
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:20:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22213945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yevie/pseuds/Yevie
Summary: When a friend from two lifetimes ago hired Felix for a job, he didn't know what to expect. Trouble, for sure. But, he hadn't expected a Blight.
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius & Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 12
Kudos: 22





	1. An Old Friend

**Author's Note:**

> So...this is a Dragon Age Origins AU, but sideways. It'll become clear what I mean by that as the fic progresses.
> 
> I've been working on this fic on and off for a while now, and it's not finished, but it's about a third of the way there. This is the first chapter and I'll try and update every two weeks or so, though that might change as my schedule does. Tags will update as the story progresses. 
> 
> Anyhow, I hope you enjoy :D
> 
> (Also, thank you to Elliot for all your help!)

Felix knew a thing or two about running away. He knew how to run from the past and how to keep running so that there was no future, only the present. He didn't know how to pick battles, mostly because he never picked those. He was born fighting and likely would die fighting. Unsurprising as he was mostly a mercenary, partially a smuggler and rarely a thief. Original for a dirty knife ear, he knew.

But at the moment, Felix was neither running nor fighting. He sat in his office, a cup of spiced tea growing cold. There was a surprising amount of administrative work required to run a mercenary company of questionable legality - inventory, a list of jobs, and bribes to pay the guards. The only light in the room was a small candle on the tabletop and the moonlight streaming through the window. It was long past the time Felix normally received jobs - most of his customers weren't particularly odd sorts. Even criminals preferred to keep reasonable hours when they could. But, this was also the time when Felix received his most lucrative jobs, the sort that made him close up shop for a week, the sort that sent his blood racing and made him feel awake. It'd been a while since he'd had one of those. Life was becoming quiet in the Marches and Felix was almost concerned he was going to have to move on.

He shouldn't have been concerned. A knock on the door made him put down his stack of papers. He waited a moment, making sure it had not just been the wind, before he rose from his seat, picked up his blade from where it leaned against the desk, and answered the door.

This was what he saw - a tall man, red haired, brown eyed, dressed in a templar's uniform that looked perhaps a size or so too large. This was what he saw - a glint of recognition in the man's eyes that mirrored his own, surprise maybe, and a past that Felix thought no longer had any chance of haunting him. This was what he saw - Sylvain Gautier, his childhood friend from two lifetimes ago and a mage who had supposedly been sent to the Circle - the Circle in Ferelden, not the Free Marches.

"What the fuck," Felix breathed out. He, however, did not let shock make him careless. He did not step back, but kept his grip on his weapon, ready to attack were this some sort of trap.

"That any way to greet an old friend," Sylvain said, too calm to truly be surprised at seeing Felix.

Gooseflesh rose on Felix's arms. There was no reason for Sylvain to have tracked him down. Felix had demons he was running from, yes, but Sylvain was a piece of his past that knew nothing of those demons. And those demons had no reason to send Sylvain after him. Likely enough, they thought Felix a dead man. It had to be something else. "We're not friends," Felix said. "What do you want?"

Sylvain laughed, but it lacked mirth. "And here I thought we'd have a heartfelt reunion, share a few stories, and get reacquainted before getting to business." Shaking his head, Sylvain continued, "but if we must go straight to business, I'm here to hire you."

Felix's hand tightened on his blade. His eyes narrowed. "Did you track me?"

"Do you believe in coincidence?" Sylvain's lips quirked into a half smile and he shook his head. "No, didn't think you would. It is a coincidence, though. Somewhat, at least. I'm not in the city because of you, and I'm not attempting to hire you simply for the sake of nostalgia. I needed - need a mercenary, there were rumors, you were supposedly the best..." He shrugged. "It's really not that interesting a story. You probably don't care, right?"

Felix's heart raced, he felt ill, he felt the urge to run his sword through Sylvain if only to not have to deal with the shock. It was almost more than Felix could process at the moment, so perhaps he was better off not doing so. "You're right - I don't care." Inhaling, he stepped aside to let Sylvain enter. Felix did not relax, but then, even on a good day, Felix did not relax.

Striding in with all the confidence a noble, with all the confidence a mage should not have, Sylvain turned around the room. There was nothing here Felix could imagine Sylvain being interested in - it was a crumbling, wooden place. On paper, it was a storage room for the warehouse, and thus, for plausibility, there were a few junk filled crates lining the walls. They served well enough as chairs, and even better as temporary housing places for stolen goods or as places for people to hide away in. Nothing here was worth shit, but that didn't mean Felix wanted Sylvain prying.

"You said you had a job."

"Ah, right. Yeah. You remember I'm a mage, right? It's probably hard to forget considering... well, never mind, you don't want to reminisce." Sylvain was looking out the half-boarded window, not at Felix. But for all Sylvain's rambling, Felix did not see any nervous tension in his posture. "I'm trying to get to Lothering, that's in Ferelden, and I can evade templars for a bit - got rid of their main means of tracking me - but there's no guarantee I won't run into trouble on the road. It's not as if the Circle teaches us survival skills. So, I need an escort. You interested?" He turned to face Felix then.

Snorting, Felix asked, "You think you can afford my prices?"

"What, no childhood friend discount? I'm offended," Sylvain said, not sounding the least offended. "But, don't worry, I can pay." He pulled out a leather purse and tossed it to Felix. When Felix looked inside, there was a lot of gold. Definitely enough gold to afford the job. "That's the first half," Sylvain said. "You get me to Lothering, and you get the rest."

Felix normally was fair - he didn't overcharge anyone who wasn't an asshole. And he knew roughly where the backwater town of Lothering was. Far, yes, but the amount of gold here was enough for two round trips, it was enough gold to make Felix consider setting foot into the Imperium, it was close to enough gold to make Felix almost consider going into the deep roads again. How had Sylvain managed to get ahold of it? And why Lothering, of all places? Felix bounced the bag in his palm, listening to the jangle of coins.

"There's something you're not telling me," Felix said.

Sylvain tilted his head and batted his lashes. He used to look at the cook like that when he wanted to convince her he hadn't been the one to steal the last pair of meat buns. "You haven't seemed interested in the details so far."

That had been Sylvain insinuating and Felix going along with him. Felix huffed. "What's in Lothering?"

"A contact - friend of sorts. She just likes me enough to help me."

Snorting, Felix said, "Even after being sent to the Circle, you still manage to fuck around."

"What? No - I mean, in the Circle, sure, there's not much else to do. But, no, she's just a friend. I do have have friends, Felix."

Felix crossed his arms. "You could go to the Imperium."

Sylvain actually looked offended. "You've got to be kidding me. Wow. I have standards. I'm not..." He shook his head. "Besides, I doubt you'd take me there."

"You could hire another mercenary."

"Yeah, still no. I'm not interested in the Imperium. Don't know what you've heard about it, but as far as I know, life there's not exactly great unless you're dabbling in blood magic. I'm not touching that shit."

No, Sylvain wouldn't be interested in that, would he. Not after Miklan. "You're assuming this is enough for me to deal with you," Felix said, shaking the bag again.

Sylvain rolled his eyes. "I know how much your services are worth, Felix. We both know I'm overpaying you."

"Yeah, you are. Why?"

"I need someone I can trust and would you really say yes if all I was offering was your normal fee?"

Felix still remembered the day everyone found out that Sylvain was a mage. Felix had known before, of course. Milkan had been dead for three years at the time and Sylvain had been getting antsy. Demons, apparently, haunted his dreams. He'd been trying to teach himself, Felix had been trying to help, but they both knew it was going to come out anyhow. None of them had expected the bandits.

Tucking the bag of coin into the pocket of his jacket, Felix said, "Fine. But I find out you're keeping something important from me, and you're dead Gautier."

"Come on Fe, you know I would never do that to you."

"Call me that again and you're just as dead."

Sylvain laughed.

* * *

That night, Felix dreamed of a dragon. He dreamed of darkspawn and a call. When he woke, Felix was drenched in a cold sweat. This wasn't an uncommon dream for him - he could escape the Order, but Felix could not escape what was in his blood. The dream had felt more real than usual, but Felix wasn't going to put stock in that. Having Sylvain turn up out of nowhere was probably enough to stir Felix's nerves.

He fell back against his pillow, breathing, trying to go back to sleep. There was a lot to do tomorrow. The trip to and from Lothering would take him a month if nothing came up, longer if something did. He needed to talk to Dorothea, the owner of the Red String Club and the best smuggler Felix knew. When Felix went out of town, she took care of his assets and found work for his people. He returned the favor and made sure that anyone who harassed her employees didn't dare do so again.

And if he was gone for as long as he anticipated, he'd have to double his bribes. The guards wouldn't take the excuse of 'lack of operation' to keep from arresting Felix when he got back. They'd let him go, of course. The money he gave them was too good for them to permanently shut him down, but they would rough him up first, just because they could. Bastards.

His eyes flittered closed, and behind them, Felix saw darkspawn and darkly lit caverns. These weren't nightmares, but memories. He saw the rotting faces, the empty eyes, his companions being grabbed back and clawed open. Screams so violent that they were impossible to forget rang out in Felix's ears. And an eye - blue iris with a pin prick pupil - watched him from a hollowed out cavern, more unnerving than anything else.

So, maybe, he wouldn't be sleeping tonight.


	2. What Changes and What Stays the Same

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Felix couldn't help but wonder exactly where Sylvain had started to lose it. What had happened to the boy who wanted to escape all his responsibilities? This might have been the most terrifying bit of this entire affair - Felix kept thinking he knew Sylvain, had a good handle on the man and then found out that everything he had assumed about him was wrong because his information was two decades out of date. The only relief was that Felix was also not the same kid he'd been when last Sylvain saw him, and that meant that Felix could use his own secrets to protect himself should he need to._

Getting Sylvain on a ship was easy enough. They posed as noble and manservant, because Felix absolutely refused to go with Sylvain's idea of newlyweds. While Felix's hair could cover his ears enough for him to avoid harassment when he walked down the street, he couldn't hide his elvish blood under scrutiny. But this solution was still humiliating and still forced Felix to be crammed into the same cabin as Sylvain.

The worst part of this was that Felix loathed sea travel. It was cramped and he grew easily restless. Sylvain, on the other hand, seemed to be completely unaffected by the claustrophobic nature of this whole affair. Felix almost asked how he could stand it, but then he recalled that Sylvain had spent two decades locked up in the Circle. Instead, Felix said, "I'm going above deck."

Sylvain looked up from the book he was reading. "Not a bad idea." He stretched up and off of the floor. "I think I'll join you." While Felix wanted nothing more than to protest, he could see the somehow still too familiar mischief in Sylvain's eyes that meant that he was willing to annoy Felix to get his way. Some shit never changed.

They ended up leaned against the railing, the sea breeze playing with their hair and its chill biting into their flesh. There were few people up there with them, but that was understandable. Winter was near. Felix knew he wouldn't be able to spend as long as he wished to in the relative freedom of the open air. Sylvain, meanwhile, seemed completely unaffected by the cold. But then Felix could still recall how much of a furnace Sylvain had been.

Felix still could recall a lot about Sylvain. That was perhaps the most unnerving part of this whole affair - Felix had barely thought about Sylvain when he'd been a Warden, had near forgotten him before he'd appeared again, and yet now, it felt like Sylvain had not had that violent exit from Felix's life.

Then again, Sylvain had been Felix's most stalwart ally back in their youth, had been the one to curl up with Felix on lonely nights, had been the first person to call Felix by the name Felix had chosen for himself. Felix could still recall how Sylvain would step in with a broad smile and a dangerous glint in his eye to make sure that anyone who teased Felix for being a half-elven bastard was too terrified to do so again.

It only worked because everyone knew that Sylvain's brother had been a dangerous blood mage, and thus, no one could be completely sure that Sylvain wasn't one himself. Still, Felix had been grateful then. It had been Sylvain toeing the line of spilling his most dangerous secret for the sake of Felix. Or, that's what Felix had thought. Now, he wondered if Sylvain had been so flashy as a means of misdirection.

Out of the corner of his eyes, Felix watched Sylvain as if the blank smile could answer a myriad of childhood questions. How foolish.

"I know I have a pretty face. You don't have to pretend you aren't staring," Sylvain said, turning to Felix.

Felix coughed, startled out of his nostalgia. "Have you gone mad?"

"If you ask some people, I've always been mad." Sylvain grinned. Felix resisted the urge to shove him.

Shaking his head, he waited for Sylvain to turn back to staring at the sea. That did not occur. Sylvain kept watching Felix, his eyes dark and deep, easy to fall into. The silence grew more and more unbearable, until finally Felix could take it no longer. "How did you get your funds?" Felix asked, if only to stop himself from blurting out a stupid question about their childhood.

"Huh? You're asking this now?" Sylvain blinked. "What does it matter? I've already paid you."

Felix scowled. "I'm asking because if you got it doing something stupid, then it could bite us both in the ass." That was half of a lie, but the thought had crossed Felix's mind more than once during the trip.

"Come on, who do you take me for? No, don't answer that. I earned the money, Felix."

Felix narrowed his eyes. "How does a mage earn money?"

A laugh burst out of Sylvain, as bitter and cold as the wind. "Legally? A mage doesn't. But, you're not the only one who knows his way outside the law. Templars sometimes need favors."

"Favors," Felix repeated, thinking of Dorothea.

"Yup. A little of this, a little of that. It took a while," Sylvain shrugged.

That sounded like an understatement. Felix had met templars. They were some of Dorothea's most frequent customers and her least favorite. Apparently, upholding chantry law left one both bitter and broke. "How long?"

"Since I got to the Circle," Sylvain said, finally turning away from Felix. "You think I was going to let them keep me?"

They stood in the cold for a while longer, until Felix's fingers began to feel stiff and the sun began to turn the water a deep red, as if their boat was swimming through fire.

* * *

When they were children, Sylvain had been plagued by nightmares - not just the mage kind, but the kind real people had too. Felix knew this, because he would often crawl into Sylvain's bed at night, not wanting to miss the the chance to spend time with a friend he so rarely got to see. Sylvain never told Felix exactly what those nightmares were. He liked to keep his secrets, but Felix had had his guesses. Miklan, for one. Felix had been terrified of him too.

But in those quiet nights, when Felix was there, Sylvain would hug him tight and let Felix complain about his troubles, not saying a word about his own. How selfless it had seemed then.

Felix tried to protect Sylvain in turn. He wasn't great at it - when Miklan had still been around, Felix attempting to fight him or distract him simply left Sylvain with tears to wipe off. But it was not long after Miklan's death that some templars decided to 'stay over' at Castle Fraldarius while Sylvain was visiting. Their eyes kept drifting to Sylvain. It left Sylvain more sleepless than ever. He was pale and jittery and snapped hard enough at Felix that he made Felix cry. (Later, he made it up to Felix by stealing them both meat buns.)

In Felix's young mind the solution was running away.

"Where would we even go?" Sylvain had demanded.

"The woods. Not forever, just a few days. Just enough for the jerks to go away."

A day later, after a templar had spent the morning staring too long at Sylvain, Felix had all but dragged him into the woods. Sylvain had been worried, it would look extra suspicious, but Felix wasn't loosing his best friend.

The cave they spent the week in had been very cold.

* * *

"Is there any reason to suspect a templar might have followed you?" Felix asked Sylvain.

Sylvain raised an eyebrow.

"There's a templar on the ship," Felix clarified. Felix couldn't ascertain why - if it was just a coincidence, or if the templar was there because Sylvain had been less successful at covering his tracks than he'd implied. It wouldn't be impossible to take the templar out, if need be. As long as Felix found a quiet place to lure him to, he could be rid of him with no trouble - the open ocean provided an easy place to dispose of a body.

Of course, Felix was disinterested in cold blooded murder if there was no need for it.

Sylvain shifted, tapping his chin. "Well, I suppose it wouldn't have been impossible for them to guess I was headed out of the city. But, all they'd have is guesses."

Felix glared. "Fine. Just don't do anything stupid."

Sylvain rolled his eyes, but he didn't respond.

It was the next day - Sylvain had gone up to get some air and Felix had stayed behind to enjoy a moment of silence. That was fine. It was fine until Felix noticed he had finished the book he'd been reading (one of the weird novels Sylvain had brought with him) and Sylvain was still not back. If there hadn't been a potential templar problem, Felix might have ignored the sinking feeling in his stomach. But, as it was, he set the book aside, and with a calm, even pace made his way upstairs.

There was Sylvain, flirting with the templar, a bright, fearless grin on his face. Felix waited at the top of the stairs, not close enough to catch much of the conversation, but close enough to rush in should something go horribly wrong. It proved pointless. After a while, Sylvain and the templar went off somewhere and that evening, Felix had as much privacy as he desired.

He didn't ask Sylvain about it the next day.

* * *

The instant they stepped foot out of the harbor, Felix knew something was wrong. There was an unnerving hush around the town, whispers lingering in alleys, eyes darting around corners. It was tempting to gather information. Whatever the problem was, it could be trouble down the line. Political unrest could mean roads to avoid, lest they run into someone who could assume they were allied with an enemy. Natural disaster could mean blocked paths or food shortages. Felix had learned the hard way that if he went in blind, he would pay for it dearly.

The problem was Sylvain. Felix had spent years learning how to not sound like a noble, how to blend into a crowd and become one of them. But Sylvain still walked in a way that screamed nobility - his head held high, his shoulders back, an easy swagger to his walk. Apparently, the Circle could not scrub one's upbringing from them. No wonder he had hired Felix - he would have been mugged or murdered long before a templar caught sight of him.

"I'm going to gather information," Felix said.

Sylvain had been making awed faces at the neighborhood. "Hm - okay. Where are we going?"

"You're going to an inn and staying there. If you decide to wander off, I'm not searching for you."

Sylvain frowned. "So, let me see if I have this straight, you're going to ditch me to get information."

Felix shrugged, "And here I thought you might be stupid."

"I'd rather come along."

"No."

"And why--"

"Because, if you haven't noticed, you don't blend in for shit."

Sylvain looked off to the side.

So, that was how Felix ended up alone in the tavern, listening to rumors and watching the crowd. There was little difference between the Southern Marches and Northern Ferelden. Most of the crowd here sailed between the two regularly. There was a tension in the air, but no one was saying exactly what was going on.

"I'm thinkin' 'bout settling up in the Marches, permanent like," said one of the men with a scraggly beard and a tattoo of an anchor along his chin.

"You really think you needa do that?" Asked his companion, a tall woman with burly arms. "The wife's been concerned, but it's not really going to come to that, is it..."

The man shrugged. "Dunno, it's only been rumors so far. Might not even be a big deal, they're saying."

Felix's grip tightened on his drink. Would they just name whatever it was they were talking about so Felix could stop eavesdropping on a conversation he cared little about?

"But, the king's bringing an army down there, so he must think it's a big deal," the man continued.

"Everyone says King Ferdinand's a fool. They say the real brains is Queen Edelgard. And rumor says she ain't happy about this at all," said the woman.

The thing about investigation, at least the thing about the sort of investigation that involved people and not simply sneaking into a building and stealing the papers needed, was that Felix lacked the patience for it. It was why he normally had one of his employees or even Dorothea do the scouting for him. Perhaps he should have taken someone else along on this journey, but, then, it was too late to regret that now. Forcing himself to take another breath, Felix took a gulp of his ale. It tasted like piss.

"The Wardens though - they ain't fools."

Felix choked. Wet, gasping coughs burst out of him as liquid spilled over his table, over his clothes. He wasn't sure if it was the absurdity of the statement - the Wardens were nothing else if not fools attempting to be legends and forgetting that legends were dead things - or if it was the realization that the only thing that could involve both Ferelden's army and the Wardens was the threat of a Blight.

Fucking shit.

People were staring at Felix. He grimaced at them. He knew how to be invisible, but once he'd been sighted, Felix only knew how to attack. This situation did not call for an attack. He just began to clean up the mess and waited for the eyes to stop staring at him so that he could exit and then process what a potential Blight meant for him.

* * *

When Felix returned to the Inn, the innkeeper gave him a look that said he was in trouble. "If there's any damage done to the room, you're paying for it," she said, before turning away. Felix could only assume that Sylvain had done something very stupid. Unsurprising, but still frustrating.

Felix steadied himself before walking upstairs. He didn't rush, there was no point. Whatever Sylvain had done, it was probably long over. Felix would find some way to deal with it, or preferably, make Sylvain deal with it. Either way, he'd use this as an excuse to charge Sylvain extra. He might need the extra money if the Blight was not contained. He would need the extra money to see what lay beyond the Imperium, beyond the Anderfells, maybe even beyond the Volca Sea. He would especially need the extra money if he told Sylvain that a Blight was coming and Sylvain decided that he no longer desired to stay in Ferelden and thus ended their job before Felix had earned his full pay.

What he found upstairs were sheets tossed around, scorch marks along the wall and absolutely no sign of Sylvain. The window had been thrown open, but thankfully not broken. Felix glanced out. The only sign of any trail was a metal dagger glittering on the ground.

Felix had said he would not go looking for Sylvain. He'd mostly said it to make Sylvain stay put and had no actually expected to decide if he'd meant what he'd said or not.

The bags Sylvain had left behind did contain the rest of Felix's pay. He was hardly above theft, but he didn't normally cheat clients who didn't attempt to cheat him first. Whatever had happened here, it hadn't seemed like it had happened as an attempt to betray Felix, and it was in Felix's job description to protect Sylvain from harm should he be targeted.

But, Felix wasn't sure what exactly had gone down. Had it been a templar, would the innkeeper not have told him about it? Certainly people did not take kindly to those who would aid apostates. If it were not a templar, who could it have been? Felix could not imagine what sorts of enemies Sylvain could have in Ferelden. Nor could he imagine Sylvain panicking so desperately as to fall out a window. The man was nothing if not contained. There were too many questions. The desire for answers, more than anything else, convinced Felix to go looking for Sylvain.

The search itself was significantly easier than Felix had anticipated. He went down to the dagger, found a trail of footsteps, an iced corner of a building, and there was Sylvain, jacketless, huddled in a corner, knees drawn to his chest and shaking. His eyes had a haunted look that reminded Felix of another, bluer pair and made Felix loose any composure he might have had with the oddity. "Hey!"

Sylvain didn't lift his head.

"Hey!" Felix reached down and shoved at Sylvain's shoulder. "Whatever the Void is going on, snap out of it."

Sylvain flinched, shuddered, and then slowly, oh so slowly, focused his gaze. Then he was gasping and coughing, like a drowning man who was desperate to replace the water in his lungs with air. Felix was tempted to shake him again, but he feared that, if he touched Sylvain, whatever this was would get worse.

So, Felix stood, hands curled into fists, as Sylvain returned to himself. "Shit," Sylvain finally managed to say.

The hammering in Felix's chest stuttered for a moment before resuming. "What the hell was that, Gautier?" Felix asked, addled enough to use Sylvain's true surname.

Sylvain closed his eyes and shuddered. "Would you believe it if I told you this was just a nightmare?"

Felix knew a bit about nightmares - his own true ones, the ones that haunted all Wardens and the demons that had haunted Sylvain in their youth. This looked like none of those. Maybe it was a mage thing, but Felix had worked with apostates in the past. None of them had ended up in any scenario that resembled this. "Bullshit," Felix said.

Letting out a fractured chuckle, Sylvain shook his head, "Yeah, well, it's not really bullshit. It is a nightmare, just not exactly mine."

"If you're going to be cryptic, I'm leaving you here and taking the rest of your gold."

"Asshole." Sylvain sounded too worn for venom. "I pissed off another mage, and apparently they know how to use the Fade in some crazy ways." He made it sound mundane, but Felix was certain that this was anything but.

"They used the Fade."

Sylvain lifted one hand and waggled his fingers. "It's a little more complicated, but do you really want to hear about a bunch of magic mumbo-jumbo?"

"If it's going to destroy more inn rooms, yeah."

Groaning, Sylvain said, "Well, fine, then help me up because we're not talking about this where anyone can hear. I thought you were all about discretion."

That brought a flush to Felix's face. He didn't respond, instead looping an arm around Sylvain and dragging him back to their room.

* * *

It turned out that Sylvain was good at pissing off more than just Felix. Apparently Sylvain had pissed off a mage who somehow was able to travel the fade so well that they could invade the dreams of others and leave them hallucinating after they woke.

"How the hell did you manage that?" Felix asked, because he knew Sylvain was annoying, but somehow this seemed like disproportionate retribution.

Sylvain shrugged. "Mostly research? I was trying to understand some things about the fade and someone got territorial."

"Are you even supposed to--"

"No. But the templars wouldn't have exactly been able to find out, now would they? I wasn't messing with blood magic or demons. I just was curious about the whole 'mages started the Blight' thing."

"Don't tell me you were tying to go to the _Black City_."

Sylvain rolled his eyes, "Even if I wanted to to do that, I don't think I could without a massive hoard of lyrium. I just figured I'd ask some Fade residents some questions."

"Demons."

"There's not only demons." Felix narrowed his eyes, but Sylvain glared back. "I wouldn't mess with demons, Felix. You should know that."

Felix remember Miklan and the horrible abomination he'd transformed into. He remembered the fire and the rage and how it had been Sylvain's lance that had saved them in the end. He didn't want to remember this, so he said, "Whatever. Just tell me how much of a problem this will be."

Sylvain ran a hand through his curls. "Not much of one if I don't try snooping around the fade again."

So this only happened because Sylvain had decided that he couldn't just be patient for a little. Fucking idiot. It took everything in Felix not to storm off and forget about this mission entirely.

He took one breath and then another. "Good." And then he hesitated, because it was very tempting to just forget to warn Sylvain about the coming Blight. But, Felix wasn't that much of an ass. "Because, we have another problem. There's word of a Blight."

Felix had prepared for a number of reactions - fear, anger, disbelief, but he had not prepared for the calm lack of surprise on Sylvain's face. "You knew," Felix accused.

"That's a bit of an exaggeration. Suspected that it would happen, yes. Though, before you start yelling, I did think we had more time than this. Really, I expected to be in Lothering by the time it started."

"Why?" Felix asked. This made no sense.

"Why did I suspect or why was I headed towards the Blight?"

"Both."

Sylvain shrugged and sighed. "Like I said, I want to figure out a bit more about the whole mages-Blight issue."

Felix couldn't help but wonder exactly where Sylvain had started to lose it. What had happened to the boy who wanted to escape all his responsibilities? This might have been the most terrifying bit of this entire affair - Felix kept thinking he knew Sylvain, had a good handle on the man and then found out that everything he had assumed about him was wrong because his information was two decades out of date. The only relief was that Felix was also not the same kid he'd been when last Sylvain saw him, and that meant that Felix could use his own secrets to protect himself should he need to.

He took a breath. "I'll get you to Lothering, but I'm not sticking around to deal with the Blight, should it come to that."

Sylvain raised his eyebrows. "And here I thought you were once a Warden."

Felix's blood went cold. "How--"

"I told you I didn't just pick you because of nostalgia. But, don't worry, I won't insist you stick around for the Blight."

* * *

Felix went for a walk after that conversation. It was all he could do to stop himself from either murdering Sylvain on the spot or sinking to the ground to attempt to gasp the air that felt far too thin. The fact that Sylvain knew Felix had once been a Warden didn't materially change anything. If the Wardens did their job, the Blight was unlikely to pose a huge problem. On a material level, the truth changed little about the job, but Felix couldn't shake the fury he felt at having this information hidden from him.

"You said something important," Sylvain had insisted when Felix had threatened murder.

"You mean a fucking _Blight_ was unimportant."

Sylvain had shrugged his shoulder. "Again, I thought you'd be long gone by then."

Both of them knew that it was bullshit. With this out in the open, Felix wondered what else Sylvain could possibly be keeping from him. He should quit. He should go back now. Should and yet... and yet there was a tiny, morbid piece of Felix that couldn't help but wonder what exactly Sylvain was up to, a tiny, morbid piece that saw the familiar face and wanted to figure out exactly what had changed in the person wearing it. Foolish.

The night air sank into his bones. Shuddering, Felix looked back to the inn. He forced himself to ignore the churning in his stomach and return.

In the low lamplight, Sylvain sat on the bed, book on his lap. He looked up at Felix with an indecipherable gaze, face blank and unapologetic.

"You used to hate people who fucking led others around by the nose," Felix said, sounding more tired than angry.

Sylvain looked to the side and shrugged, his shadow flickering behind him. "And you used to be such a sweet little kid." He tilted his head back, looking up to the ceiling. "So, you sticking with this job?"

"If I see a single darkspawn, I'm throwing you to it and leaving."

"Fair enough."


	3. Things Fall Apart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"You fool, they're all dead. We're fucked. No one's saving our asses," said a too loud voice from the end of the room._
> 
> _"Ferelden ain't the only place with Wardens. There's--" A second voice began saying._
> 
> _Then a third voice popped in, "Haven't you heard - Tern Hubert has put a bounty out on Wardens. He ain't letting any come near."_
> 
> _"But Queen Edelgard--" The second voice popped in once more._
> 
> _"Queen Edelgard hasn't been heard from since the king died," The first voice said._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...Well, that definitely took more than two weeks. I'm sorry ya'll. Like everyone else, I'm in a hectic place right now so I don't exactly know what the update schedule for this actually will look like, just that I have no plans of abandoning this fic. Still, I hope this chapter is a fun read!
> 
> (Also, thank you again Elliot (scatteringmyashes) for the beta!)

The road from the port town was relatively peaceful. Felix noticed few travelers, probably only those who'd heard rumors of the Blight. No one seemed to be panicking yet. In fact, in one inn they stopped at, Felix heard a man bragging about how his daughter would be battling with King Ferdinand. She'd come home a hero, he claimed, one who would help stop a Blight before it even started. If his daughter didn't come home, Felix couldn't help but wonder if the man would regret his words. Or was it the heroism, rather than the daughter, that he took pride in?

It wasn't until Felix and Sylvain were half way to Lothering that things became worrying. As if overnight, the roads became crowded with travelers, and not the usual sort. There were families, there were the lone elderly, and worst of all there were the highwaymen. Felix could deal with highwaymen, had dealt with much more dangerous enemies countless times, but it wasn't the fighting that concerned him.

In the evening, after he and Sylvain set up camp, Felix said, "Lothering might be gone."

"Maybe," Sylvain agreed, poking a stick into the fire.

"Are you sure you want to keep going?" Felix hated that he felt the need to ask this, but the limited amount of standards that he still held forced him to do so.

"We've seen no darkspawn yet, right?" Sylvain's lips twisted into a smile.

"I wouldn't be here if we had."

"Okay, then, let's keep going."

Felix narrowed his eyes. "What exactly is in Lothering that you're willing to risk the Blight for?"

"A friend, I've told you this." Sylvain sighed, long and exaggerated. "She's a research contact and I also don't want to leave her for dead if I can help it." He said this flippantly, like he didn't care. But, there was a flicker of earnestness there that made Felix blink. Somehow, Felix hadn't anticipated that Sylvain still had the capacity to care about anyone other than himself.

"Fine." They'd just have to stop at the next town to assess the situation. If the Wardens had failed to stop the first onslaught of darkspawn, they must be recruiting. While Felix wanted to avoid the darkspawn, he even more so wanted to avoid the Wardens. It was one thing to battle against mindless monsters, it was another to face down his former Order. Would they try and drag him back? Execute him for his betrayal? Either would be a death sentence.

But, there was no next town.

In the morning, they set off, bags packed, Sylvain chattering while Felix ignored him. As they walked, there seemed to be fewer people crossing their path than usual. Fewer animals as well. It was an eerie sort of silence where there was not even the squawking of birds to keep them company, like the forest before a storm.

Mid-afternoon they smelled smoke. Felix turned to Sylvain, who had a hard look in his eyes. He began walking faster then, his long legs making strides that Felix had trouble keeping up with.

"I told you--" Felix began.

"Yeah, yeah, I know. You don't have to come." Sylvain pulled his bag to the front and fished out the coin purse, tossing it to Felix.

Felix stood for a moment, blinking. Every reasonable bone in his body told him to leave. But there was the smell of smoke and Sylvain walking towards it.

_They'd been youths - Sylvain's voice had just started cracking and his eyes had taken a perpetually hollow look that couldn't be attributed to puberty. Glenn had noticed, and Glenn was about as observant as a rock. But, Glenn was also considerate and took both Felix and Sylvain out riding to the village to "pick up girls." It was his idea of distracting Sylvain, who had not found much time for girls as of late and of being supportive of Felix, even if Felix had been even less interested in girls than he'd been in boys._

_Still, both Felix and Sylvain had agreed. Neither of them had been good at saying no to Glenn. On the way, they ran into some merchants. Felix had asked to stop to see if they had any weapons he could purchase. They hadn't expected the bandits, especially not such a large group._

_Even Glenn, nearly an adult, nearly a knight, couldn't quite hold them off. The dagger that Felix had wanted to buy was lodged in his arm and he was crouched on the ground, trying to breathe through the pain._

_That was when Sylvain turned fire on the bandits. The last thing Felix remembered seeing was the merchant's cart alight and the scene turning black. His lungs filled with smoke and coughing overtook him before his consciousness faded. When he awoke, he was an only child._

Felix rushed forward after Sylvain. "You're going to get yourself killed."

"Maybe," Sylvain said too casually.

"No fucking maybe about it." Felix grabbed hold of Sylvain's arm, feeling again like a child. "If she's not dead already, then she must have had the sense to flee."

Sylvain tried to jerk himself free, but he wasn't the one who'd spent decades with a blade in his hand. "Stop being an idiot," Felix demanded.

Sylvain kept trying to jerk away, and Felix could smell lyrium. He shoved Sylvain down to the ground. "Don't you dare," Felix hissed.

Sylvain looked up. Felix still couldn't read him.

"A few days - we wait a few days and then we'll search for your friend. If she made it out, then she'll be easier to find once the darkspawn have moved on."

* * *

That night, they made their way back to the last town they'd stayed at. The inn was crowded, but they were lucky enough to grab hold of the last available room. Seated around the dining area were weary looking people with hollowed eyes. In the corner sat a pale man, rocking back and forth. Felix could all but taste the Blight on him, but no one was moving to do anything. It'd be a kindness to offer him a quick death, for the one he'd have would be long and painful. But Felix wasn't quite in the mood for that sort of kindness.

Sitting with his earlier 'kindness' was gnawing at him as it was. He nursed his drink, trying to ignore Sylvain's gaze. There was no way Felix could justify having stopped Sylvain without bringing up that a part of him still cared for the childhood friend that'd been stolen away. And here Felix had thought he'd rid himself of his attachments to the past.

He could still turn his back - he had the gold and he had said he would not dive into foolishness. Sparing a glance up, he saw that Sylvain was still looking at him like one would look at a stray cat - preparing for the inevitable moment when the thing bolted away. Felix turned back to his drink and lifted it to his lips only to find it empty.

"Want another?" Sylvain asked, voice flat as if all personality had been sucked out of it.

Felix shrugged. "Guess so."

Moments later, Sylvain came back with another pair of ales. Felix picked his up and downed a third of it, if only to stop himself from debating just how ready he was to run away. He was staying for the night, at least - it was the smartest option. In the morning, when he had clarity and there was no twisted nostalgia dragging him into stupidity, he could figure out what exactly he was doing.

"You fool, they're all dead. We're fucked. No one's saving our asses," said a too loud voice from the end of the room.

"Ferelden ain't the only place with Wardens. There's--" A second voice began saying.

Then a third voice popped in, "Haven't you heard - Tern Hubert has put a bounty out on Wardens. He ain't letting any come near."

"But Queen Edelgard--" The second voice popped in once more.

"Queen Edelgard hasn't been heard from since the king died," The first voice said.

Felix twitched up, feeling a chill spreading through him. He looked at Sylvain, who was frowning. This was just rumor, Felix knew how easily rumor blew out of proportion, but something of it rang true. The wholesale destruction of southern Ferelden seemed hard to comprehend if the Wardens were around. Even a handful of Wardens would be enough to help with proper evacuation efforts. For all Felix looked down on the Order, he knew what it was capable of.

But if they were all dead, if none were being let into Ferelden, if there was a bounty on their heads, then that would make Felix the only Warden in the entire damned country, save for one who could barely be called a person let alone a Warden. It felt as if the world had stopped turning but Felix was left spiraling.

This wasn't his problem. This wasn't. If he fled Ferelden and it was left to ruin because of a foolish Tern, then what did he care. The rest of the Wardens could deal with the rubble, and it would not be on Felix's head because he was no longer a Warden. He was no longer a Warden.

Standing from his chair, Felix stormed outside. The cold night air hit his face, the world was dark around him. From inside the inn there was still the muted chatter of people. And there stood Felix - no he was not standing, he was sinking against the building and into the dirt. And he was not breathing, because suddenly the air was much too thin. Was it him, or was the earth shaking?

Fuck. No. He was not considering trying to deal with this problem. He was not equipped to deal with an entire army of darkspawn on his own. If all of Ferelden's Wardens had fallen, then certainly Felix would not be enough. He was not taking the burden of saving an entire country upon his shoulders. He hadn't even be able to save his brother, hadn't been able to save Sylvain, hadn't been able to save Dimitri so there was no way he was going to be able to do this.

The door creaked open behind him. Felix took a choked breath and looked up to see Sylvain staring down at him. Sylvain said nothing as he knelt down next to Felix and tentatively placed a hand on his shoulder. If they'd still been children, Felix would have buried his face in Sylvain's chest and sobbed. If this had been a week ago, he might have jerked away as if burned. But now all Felix could do was sit still and let the presence of another's hand ground him as his world fell apart.

* * *

Felix was curled into himself, too awake to dream. Next to him lay Sylvain, breathing too evenly to truly be asleep. Their room had only one bed - but that had been a common occurrence during their travels. No one expected that the "elven manservant" would need a bed.

Rolling over, Felix faced Sylvain.

"What's keeping you up?" Sylvain asked, as casual as if they'd been talking the entire time.

After a pause, Felix shrugged. "The end of the world - you?"

"Something like that," Sylvain said. He sighed and turned so that they were face to face. Felix was grateful that the dark kept their gazes from truly meeting. There was the wave of nostalgia twisting through him - all the times Felix and Sylvain had stayed up whispering secrets in the dark. There was a part of Felix, small and vulnerable and long buried, that yearned to reach out and take Sylvain's hand. But, Sylvain couldn't offer him comfort now. They were just strangers wearing familiar faces.

"I missed you," slipped out before Felix could stop himself from saying it.

"Yeah?" Sylvain asked. He chuckled. "Missed you, too."

All Felix could do was let out a laugh - it was a low, heavy thing.

* * *

Felix had expected destruction. He knew what darkspawn were capable of better than most. He'd done his time in the Deep Roads. But, somehow that didn't prepare him for the ruins of villages. There'd been people here - Felix could see the remains of the corpses, charred and broken, dead eyes wide with horror. The air was stale with the smell of rot and burned flesh, iron and Blight. Felix felt ill.

Sylvain actually vomited midway through the first town. He fell into a crouch and wretched and kept doing so long after all the contents of his stomach had made their way to the earth. Felix was tempted to look away, to close his eyes and pinch his nose and ignore it until Sylvain stood up again. But Felix couldn't bring himself to do so. He kneeled down next to Sylvain and, after a moment of hesitation, placed a hand on his back. Sylvain didn't seem to notice until later, after he had stilled. And then he fell back, leaning into Felix. He was light for a man his height, his face was pale and covered in a cold sweat, and he shook like he might fall apart.

Sylvain had seen death, had probably killed the bandits all those years ago, but whatever troubles he had lived through had not hardened him to this. Perhaps that said more about Felix than Sylvain. It was hard to imagine any normal person reacting with any less horror than Sylvain had. But then, on paper, neither Felix nor Sylvain were quite people, were they?

They stayed there while crows cawed above them, occasionally diving down to pick pieces of tasty meat for themselves.

"We have to get up," Felix said, once their shadows started to grow long.

Sylvain inhaled through his teeth before shoving himself up. "Yeah," he said, face falling into the unreadable mask that had become too familiar. Though, even that was strained by the lack of color in Sylvain's face and the lack of focus in his eyes.

"Lothering may be as bad," Felix said.

Sylvain turned his face up towards the sky. "Kind of figured that, yeah."

Fingers twitching, Felix looked down the road, to the husks of buildings ahead. "What does your friend look like?"

Frowning, Sylvain asked, "Does it matter?"

Felix began walking, keeping his pace slow until Sylvain took the queue and joined him. "I can look for her and if she's dead..."

There was only the sound of their footsteps and the crows. Out of the corner of his eyes, Felix saw hesitation, not offense, on Sylvain's face. Well at least Felix's offer had not been too demeaning.

"If she's dead," Sylvain said, "then I think she wouldn't want some stranger digging her up. Kind of owe her a bit more than that, don't you think?"

* * *

Lothering wasn't much different from any of the half dozen broken towns they'd passed on the way there. It was not the smallest - some villages had maybe half a dozen homes among acres of farm land. Lothering at least had a chantry, though that was now reduced to charred black stone among the ashes of wooden buildings. Even had this village still stood, Felix could not imagine why Sylvain had wanted to come here in the first place. He suspected that Sylvain's friend had to be some sort of powerful apostate, nothing else seemed like a satisfactory explanation for trampling through a Blight. Still, it was difficult to imagine someone with power allowing this destruction. He logically knew that a lone mage could not stand up to an army of darkspawn, and yet, Felix couldn't help but recall how Sylvain had called flames to the bandits, the horror on their faces, the world turning to smoke. No logic could stand to that image.

His eyes flickered up Sylvain's back as he followed Sylvain through what must have been streets. How Sylvain could make out the way when all possible landmarks were in ruins was beyond Felix. Perhaps Sylvain was bluffing - he certainly seemed keen on playing pretend these days. But, Felix could allow a lie this time. Any hopes Sylvain could have had were burned along with Lothering, and Felix knew what it was to see a future turn to ash.

They did, eventually, reach a building that was still half-way standing. It was at the very edge of the village, probably one of the last places the horde had destroyed. There was, then, some hope that Sylvain's friend had managed to escape. Felix found himself wishing for that, even. He did not wish to see her corpse broken and bitten. He did not wish to see if Sylvain's mask would slip away at the sight.

There was a crack in the wall large enough for them to walk through. It was strange to be in a building with no roof, stranger still to see the remains of lovingly woven tapestries half ripped from walls, to see illustrated manuscripts covered in mud. Perhaps it could be counted as something of a miracle that any of this survived. Yet Felix found it more disquieting than total destruction.

It took him a moment longer than he cared to admit to glance towards Sylvain. There was a straightness to Sylvain's back, a stiff tilt to his chin, a careful blankness to his face - he looked like a particularly well crafted sculpture rather than a man, though no one would bother crafting someone so covered in soot and grime.

Felix turned away and without word went to check the other rooms for a body. As expected, there was none. There was clothing in vibrant violet hues thrown across the floor and trampled, there were more manuscripts piled next to toppled shelves, there was a stuffed nug, of all possible things, ripped in half and stained brown with dirt.

When Felix returned, Sylvain was kneeling on the ground. He'd opened a hatch on the floor that Felix hadn't noticed upon arrival. The hatch had to have been buried underneath debris. Felix frowned - had this been why Sylvain had still insisted on coming, even if his friend was most likely dead? "What are you looking for?" Felix asked and then flinched at the sound of his own voice in the echoing silence.

"Not sure," Sylvain said, so casual and normal sounding that one might have thought he was pursuing a shop rather than a dead woman's storage cache.

"Bullshit."

Sylvain chuckled, hallow and humorless. "No, really, I have no clue. Bernie mentioned the cache and I figured if she's not dead, I might be able to find out where she did go." He shrugged.

Felix crouched down next to Sylvain and saw nothing but books. Expensive looking books, with embossed covers, embedded with what might have been genuine gold and jewels. But, Sylvain seemed disinterested in the fortune he'd uncovered. He was simply paging his way through one of the books. It was something about the history of Thedas from the days of Andraste. Felix doubted Sylvain was man of faith.

"Are you keeping those or can we sell them?" Felix asked, in part genuinely, in part to try and get any sort of read on Sylvain.

Sylvain snorted and handed Felix a random book. "You can sell this one, if you really need money. But, I don't know who's going to want fancy literature during a Blight. Food shortages are coming up soon."

Felix huffed, and stuffed the book into his pack. "Whatever. Let's just grab them and get out of here. This place gives me the creeps."

"What, don't like corpses?"

"No."

* * *

The embers flickered above their campfire as Felix stared into the darkness of the woods. They'd made it as far past the remnants of civilization as daylight would allow, but Felix could almost see the ruins just beyond the trees.

As Felix ruminated, Sylvain sat cross legged by the fire, stirring the pot they'd strung up with one hand, and scribbling on a piece of parchment with the other all while whistling the tune to a bawdy sea shanty Felix vaguely knew the words for. It was something about a sailor who was banned from every port she'd entered because she slept with exactly the wrong woman at each and every one. Maybe it was supposed to be a metaphor.

Where to now? They'd gone south, towards Ostegar, rather north as would have been sensible. It was some stupid whim of Felix's, pulling him towards where the Wardens had fallen. No good would come of that, he knew. Even if some Wardens had survived, there'd be no trace of them there. There were the rumors of treaties buried in the Kocari Wilds, but Felix was not going to ruminate on that particular damning path. He was a survivor, not a hero.

But, before Felix could dwell further, Sylvain's voice cut into his thoughts. "So, looks like some of the horde might be headed towards Fraldarius. Thought that might be something you'd like to know."

Felix blinked, not quite processing the words at first. Fraldarius. "How would you know that?" demanded Felix. Fraldarius. Fraldarius.

Sylvain held up the parchment. It had a crude map of Ferelden sketched out with trails of x marks dotted across. One trail was diverging east, towards Denerim. The other west. Fraldarius. "It seemed like a good idea to write down where the horde had been." Sylvain said this so damn casually. He'd always been clever, but there was no way Sylvain would have remembered all the destroyed villages if he had not been keeping track already.

"You knew," Felix accused.

"We've already established that I expected a Blight," but there was a flash of something in his eyes. Something glittering in the firelight.

Standing, Felix strode over to Sylvain. "This is not a game, Gautier. I don't know what you think-"

"Felix," Sylvain cut in, "stop." And before Felix could begin speaking again, Sylvain added, "I didn't plan this. You think I could have? Even if I could somehow control the horde, there's only one place I'd send them to." He met Felix's eyes and held them until Felix flinched away.

"You're still hiding something," Felix muttered, looking towards the glowing embers.

"Just about everybody is." Sylvain rolled up the parchment and put it in the pocket of his coat. Then he gave the pot another stir. "But, I'll come with you to Fraldarius, unless you want to be rid of me, of course."

There was no question about whether Felix planned on going there. Part of Felix want to spit that he had no intention of going to Fraldarius. That he had left that all behind years ago and was just going to run as far north as he could. That he was going to let the Blight consume all of Ferelden. That all of Thedas could be devoured for all he cared. He was no hero.

And yet, his father would be. His father would make some grand final stand. He would attempt to fight off the horde all on his own just to buy people a bit more time to escape. He would hold the gates until some stupid darkspawn that he hadn't even noticed slipping by stabbed him in the back and left him bleeding out in the mud. It'd mean nothing in the end.

"You can do what you want," Felix said before heading into his tent. It would take him at least day of travel to reach Fraldarius. Sleep was necessary.


End file.
